Surviving Us (22 page)

AS SOON AS I SAY
her name, I’m not sure I can talk about it. My throat constricts as my heart races, and all I want to do is cry.

But I won’t. Not this time. I’m going to be strong for Bristol . . . and for me.

“Emma and I met our freshmen year. We had algebra together,” I begin, my voice filled with false courage. “I remember the first time I saw her I thought she was an angel. She had this long, curly blonde hair with rosy cheeks and crystal blue eyes, and I swear there was a glow that radiated from her. Of course, being the arrogant ass I’ve always been, I took the seat right next to her—the one everyone else, guys and girls alike, were too afraid to sit in—and struck up a conversation.” I stop for a moment, a small smile tugging at my mouth as I remember that day, a day I haven’t thought about in a long time.

Bristol waits patiently for me to continue, her soft, reassuring expression soothes my soul and encourages me to continue.

“We quickly became friends. Well, of course as a horny fourteen-year-old boy, I wanted more, but she had a boyfriend at a different school. So anyway, we were friends, ran around with the same crowd, and the moment I found out she and her guy broke up, I was there to take his place. We got together at the end of our sophomore year, and yeah, she was my first, even though I wasn’t hers.”

I sit up as I get to the hard part of the story, the part I’ve never told another soul. Rubbing my hands briskly across my face, I take a deep breath. “Even though we dealt with usual high school drama bullshit, we had a pretty good relationship. She was a cheerleader; I was the quarterback—you know, we went together like peas and carrots.” I chuckle at the ridiculously stupid famous pairing. I hate both peas and carrots.

“Who knows if we would’ve stayed together?” I shrug, the sadness seeping back in. “We were going to different colleges, so probably not, but I wish we could’ve made that decision for ourselves. Ya know?”

She nods understandingly, but remains quiet, knowing I need to work through this myself.

“After I signed with OU, things were different between us. Even though I was always honest with her about not deciding on schools until the end, I think she always believed I’d end up going to A&M with her. Plus, it pissed her dad off, ‘cause he was a big-shot alumna at A&M and thought I’d base my decision off that.”

“Wait,” she interjects, sitting up next to me. “You weren’t ever planning on going to UT? That’s what scout-dot-com and all the major sites reported.”

“Nope,” I shake my head, loving that she’s so interested in this stuff. “My choice was always between OU and A&M, but I didn’t tell another soul other than my parents until signing day.”

“Oh, okay,” she lies back down on her side, dark hair fanning out over the pillow. “Sorry I interrupted your story.”

“There’s not really much left to tell,” I say, picking at an invisible string on the comforter. “In the month after I signed, we went through the motions, but both of us started planning for our futures. I mean . . . I loved her, and I know she loved me. Neither of us ever talked about breaking up, we just didn’t know what was gonna happen.”

I lift my eyes to meet Bristol’s as I admit for the first time that Emma’s death, as well as the others, was my fault, my stomach knotted up with nerves. “It was all my idea to go on that spring break trip. Emma and her friend Mel, who was dating my buddy, Jason, wanted to drive down to South Padre, but I insisted, since it was our last spring break all together, we do it big. They all finally agreed, giving in to me like they usually did, and Emma talked her parents into chartering us a plane there, cause they never did anything like normal people, and well,” I close my eyes as the sick feeling settles inside me, “you know the rest.” Slumping over, ashamed and overcome with guilt, I can’t believe I just admitted it aloud. I’m not sure how she’ll ever look at me the same way again.

Bristol says nothing, fully aware that no words can change what happened. And I’m grateful for her silence. However, she does pull my listless body down into the bed next to her, resting my head on her chest as she gently runs her petite fingers through my short hair—a gesture so simple in form, but precisely what I need right now.

The tears come without warning, first a single droplet, then a steady flow pouring from under my closed lids, soaking her shirt. She never stops touching me, never stops the soft, tender strokes of her hand, and never says a word. She’s just there for me. She’s just . . . perfect.

We fall asleep like that, and when I wake up sometime in the middle of the night, neither of us has moved an inch. I don’t even consider shifting either of us. I simply cuddle in closer to her and drift back off to dreamland, feeling changed somehow . . . better even.

The morning sun arrives much earlier than I care for; I don’t want to leave this bed all day. Burying my face into Bristol’s side, I try to block out the bright ray of light shining through the sliding glass door. She tightens her hold around my neck and kisses the top of my head.

“Can we just sleep through breakfast?” she mumbles sleepily.

“Mhmm,” I groan into her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

She giggles lightly as she rubs her foot against my calf like a grasshopper. “I’m afraid Isaac may come looking for us if we do.”

No longer able to keep my mouth and hands to myself, I brush my lips across her clavicle and squeeze her ass cheeks, drawing her even closer to me. “We can tell him we’re having a one-on-one session that’s very important.”

“I’m sure that will go over well,” she teases, scooting down on the pillow so we’re closer to eye level with each other. Reaching out with her free hand, she presses her palm to my cheek and asks, “How do you feel this morning?”

I know what she’s asking without truly asking, so I answer her honestly. “Surprisingly I feel better. I know it doesn’t change things, but I think our talk was a good thing for me.” I kiss her soft lips, showing my appreciation for everything she did last night. “What about you? How are you feeling?”

“Honestly,” she smiles brightly, “ever since waking up yesterday, I feel great. It had been a long time since I talked about what happened that night, and mixed with my fear of something really devastating happening with the storm, I realized it’s silly to think my parents wouldn’t want me to live my life to the fullest. Instead of feeling guilty for ever having fun or experiencing things, I should live enough for all of us . . . enough to make them proud.”

“That’s awesome,” I reply, her positivity downright contagious. “That makes me happy.”

“
You
make me happy, Mr. McKay,” she says seductively, dropping her hand from my face down to my boxers, dipping her finger inside the elastic waistband and running it back and forth.

I laugh and roll us over so I’m hovering on top of her, slowly grinding my already hard cock between her legs. “I can make you even happier, my little Trouble,” I taunt.

“Let’s see what you got, wall kisser.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN
you didn’t bring any sneakers?” Davis asks, completely baffled by my previous statement. He leans against the door frame of my cottage, arms crossed in front of his chest, causing his white t-shirt to pull taut against his muscular biceps.

“I meant exactly what I said.” I snicker, digging through my bag for my favorite Vampire Weekend tank top to wear over my bikini with my cut-off denim shorts. “It’s a beach trip, so I only brought flip-flops. Plus, I was trying to pack as lightly as possible, since we’re here for two weeks.”

“How in the world are you going to go mountain climbing in flip-flops?”

“Mountain climbing?” I yelp, looking up at him confused. “I thought we were going to look at a couple of volcanos, have some lunch, and maybe do a little shopping.”

He laughs and shakes his head as he strides across the room towards me. “No, babe, we are going on the excursion that includes climbing to the top of the big volcano, and you most definitely are going to need something other than flip-flops to do that in.” Squatting down next to me, he kisses my cheek and tugs on one of my braided pigtails. “But I’m really digging the hair today.”